Memories Preserved
by MaraudingSnitch1314
Summary: One-shot. On Christmas Eve, Neal immerses himself in memories sweet and bitter. Come Christmas Day, a new photograph will be added to his collection. A friendship fic for the holidays. No slash. General spoilers.


**Memories Preserved**

**Author's Note: **A _White Collar_ Christmas story, set approximately one year post-_Out of the Box_. For this story, I took creative license in fabricating histories for some of our beloved characters. I am a stickler for sticking to canon, but for the purposes of this story, I had to create memories from my imagination, so I hope you will excuse any and all divergences from canon once Season 2.5 – namely _Forging Bonds_ – premieres. That being said, I do not believe that any of the memories described herein directly contradict canon as yet, so the avid Collars need not fear a wildly implausible story.

As always, thank you for reading and please leave a review. I really do appreciate each and every reviewer's comments and constructive criticism.

**Disclaimer:** I claim no rights to anything _White Collar_. I _would_ like to own a life-sized Neal Caffrey poster, though. ^_^ Happy holidays!

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Christmas Eve night descended upon the residents of New York City amidst a flurry of snowflakes and a promise of a fresh snowfall on Christmas Day, but despite his usual affinity for star-gazing on the terrace, Neal Caffrey was warmly ensconced within the luxurious confines of his suite, occasionally sipping from a glass of wine as he studied the cover of a photo album at his dinner table.

His fingers traced the elegant pattern embossed in silver upon the black leather, halting at the edge of the cover. Sighing quietly, he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes briefly, but he soon reopened them, determined to confront the contents of the photo album.

Flipping to the first page, Neal allowed a small smile of fondness to cross his features. He gazed at the photograph in front of him, one dated from at least a decade ago, but which recalled a memory in perfect clarity. He and Alex were nestled together in a beautifully furnished gondola, his right arm draped across her shoulders. They had spent three weeks together in Venice, celebrating their most recent heist while plotting their infiltration of the Amalienborg Palace.

Neal tried to ignore the memory of the aftermath of their unsuccessful attempt to steal the amber music box, lingering instead on his and Alex's happy smiles in the photograph. They had been quite content with one another – the two of them equally flirtatious and audacious – but things had long since changed irrevocably for Neal and Alex.

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Neal's slightly melancholy smile widened into one of amusement at the sight of the next photograph. He had known Mozzie for a very long time, but Mozzie had been paranoid for his entire life, it seemed.

Several years before Neal had decided to forge Atlantic Partners's unbeatable bond, he and Mozzie had traveled to California to meet with a longtime associate at the San Diego Zoo. After completing their business with Hale, Neal and Mozzie, carrying an oversized stuffed penguin he had purchased to promote his tourist cover, made their way toward the entrance of the park, forgoing a prolonged visit with the animals in favor of returning to the cooler climate of New York.

Unfortunately for Mozzie, a young boy escaped from his parents' grasp, running and ramming into Mozzie's side in his excitement to reach the flamingos. Mozzie teetered unsteadily on his feet for a few seconds as Neal grabbed his arm to prevent him from toppling over, but Mozzie's toupee – which he favored for certain personas and while exposed to the scorching sun – had been blown away by his imbalance and an unexpected warm breeze.

Hurrying toward the park bench where his hairpiece had landed, Mozzie snatched up the ruffled wig, intent on replacing it on the top of his head. Fortunately for Neal, he had brought his camera. Quickly uncovering the lens, Neal zoomed in on Mozzie endeavoring to affix the toupee.

"Say, 'cheese'!"

"No, Neal, no photos, that's one of my rules!"

_CLICK._

Two days later, after they had flown home to New York, Neal developed the photographs and was dismayed to learn that Mozzie had managed to hide his face with his newly acquired penguin – although he was pleased to see that that awful toupee was slipping off of the side of Mozzie's head.

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After refilling his glass, Neal paused before turning to the following page. He needed no reminder as to which photograph lay in wait for him next. Focusing his mind on anything but the plane explosion from over a year ago, he carefully lowered his eyes to the last photograph taken of Kate before the music box catastrophe had begun.

About two months prior to Neal's first arrest, he and Kate had celebrated their anniversary. Aware that they were being increasingly closely monitored by the FBI, Neal and Kate had been forced to share their candlelit dinner in the apartment. As always, they made the most of their resources. Kate prepared a three-course meal while Neal snuck out, neatly slipping his tail, to buy her a bouquet of roses.

Their beloved 1982 Bordeaux had long been emptied, but they pretended that they were living on the Côte d'Azur, and when Neal started to apologize for not being able to lavish her with a fancier anniversary dinner, Kate placed her index finger over his lips, effectively silencing him.

Smiling and quirking an eyebrow at him, she said, "Don't apologize, Neal. After we deliver these bonds, we'll be free forever. You can take me out for dinner whenever you want. For tonight, I only need you here with me."

Feeling elated at her words and unworthy of her affection, Neal took a hold of her hand, pulling her onto his lap to kiss her. "I love you, Kate."

"I love you, too, Neal. Now, go get the dessert while I set up the tripod."

Moments later, they snuggled together for the camera, Kate's head tucked into the crook of Neal's neck. At the last second, Neal turned his head to place his lips on her forehead, while Kate locked their hands together over her heart.

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Blinking his eyes rapidly, Neal moved to the next photograph, his smile brightening.

Several months ago, he had accompanied June to Samantha's soccer championship. Though Samantha's team didn't take home the trophy this year, the young girl's infectious exuberance lasted throughout the game. Immediately afterward, she ran to give her grandmother a hug, and Neal had snapped a shot of youthful cheerfulness and timeless elegance, claiming a copy for his album.

Suddenly and surprisingly, he found himself almost instantly capable of warding off bitter thoughts of Kate by occupying his mind with memories of happier occasions. Feeling his heartache lessen for the first time in over a year, Neal eagerly turned to the last photograph in his album, laughing gleefully.

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Although Diana had threatened bodily harm at the time he took the picture, Neal couldn't regret having done so, considering the state of the subjects in the photograph. Neal, Diana, and Jones had been sent to investigate a possible lead at an abandoned warehouse. The thief they were hunting was rumored to have used the decrepit building as a hideout when not consorting with the wealthy in the city.

They found no clues on the first floor and so decided to brave the decaying wooden staircase to access the second story, but the ancient staircase gave way as Neal, Diana, and Jones reached the halfway point, splintering and disintegrating noisily, causing its occupants to tumble unceremoniously onto the grubby floor below.

Luckily, no one was injured beyond a few scrapes and bruises. Unluckily, Neal – after reclaiming his fedora and having ensured that his tailored Devore was still intact – chose to whip out his cell phone to record the scene.

The result: a snapshot of Diana and Jones covered head-to-toe in dust, debris, and dirt, the former shooting Neal an icy glare while fixing her hair, the latter looking on warily as he mourned the condition of his suit.

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Releasing a long breath, Neal slowly closed the photo album, replaced the treasure on his bookshelf, and climbed into bed, a faint smile on his face.

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"Merry Christmas!" Elizabeth cried as she threw open the door to welcome Neal into her home. She was dressed festively for the holiday in a dark red dress and matching ruby jewels, whose collective sparkle failed to outshine her bright smile.

"Merry Christmas, Elizabeth," Neal replied, handing her a fairly hefty square package encased in shiny silver foil and adorned with a shimmering green bow. "For you and Peter."

She beamed at the gift. "Thank you, Neal. Dinner's almost ready." She pulled him into the house, calling to Peter and entering the kitchen.

Neal removed his coat and hat, setting them aside before walking into the dining room, where Peter was setting the table. He nodded to his partner. "Peter."

Peter appraised him sternly for a moment. "Neal." Then, he cracked a smile. "Did you bring the wine?"

Neal smirked at him in return, offering the bottle he had kept hidden behind his back. "I did. Need any help?"

Peter shook his head. "Nope, we're about ready to eat." He handed Neal a corkscrew. "You know, we usually have a large dinner with Elle's side of the family for Christmas, but what with everything that's happened this year… Well, we thought it would be nice to stay home and celebrate by ourselves."

"And we don't have to worry about commuting through New York City holiday traffic, either," Elizabeth chimed in, waltzing into the dining room with wine glasses in hand. "I'll be right back with the food." She disappeared again.

Neal shifted imperceptibly. "I hope you don't mind having me for dinner tonight, Peter. Christmas is a family day, after all."

Peter's smile softened as he rested a hand on Neal's shoulder. "As much as I'd like to believe otherwise, you _are_ a part of our family, Neal." And as Neal opened his mouth to respond – "But you tell anyone I said that and I'll make you do mortgage fraud for a month."

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After overindulging on Elizabeth's marvelous Christmas feast, the Burkes, Neal, and Satchmo retired to the couch with eggnog and peppermint bark. After they had admired the meticulously decorated Christmas tree in silence for several minutes, Elizabeth clapped her hands together and began doling out beautifully wrapped gifts to her husband and friend. She ripped the gold foil off of Peter's gift to her and gasped loudly, holding up a gorgeous midnight blue silk dress. "Peter, you remembered!"

Peter puffed out his chest just the tiniest bit. "Of course I remembered, Elle. Is it the right size?" Elizabeth nodded happily, kissing him soundly in gratitude.

"Now yours!" she urged him. He complied, opening a black velvet case to produce a stainless steel watch. He turned to Elizabeth, his mouth agape, ignoring Neal's muffled laughter.

She smiled. "_I_ remembered, too, honey. I noticed that your old watch was getting very battered around the edges and I know you didn't want to give it up after so many years, but I made sure to buy you something less clunky this time around. Do you like it?"

Nearly speechless, Peter regarded his wife with awe and admiration. "I love it, Elle. Thank you." Latching the clasp on his new watch, Peter nudged Elizabeth, who handed him a flat blue box, which he thrust onto Neal's lap. "Open."

"No, Peter, I was going to stare at it all night," Neal remarked dryly. He slipped off the cover and lifted four thin sheets of cardstock between his fingers. Rapidly skimming the details printed on the rectangular papers, he looked up to see Peter and Elizabeth watching for his reaction. "Is this…?"

Peter nodded. "Tickets to that new art exhibit I know you wanted to see. The museum is outside of your radius, though, but that's why we bought you four tickets. If you can't find another agent willing, I'll go with you and you can invite two other people, as well. Sound good?"

Neal impulsively pulled Peter into a one-armed hug. "Thank you, Peter, and you, Elle." He leaned over to kiss Elizabeth on the cheek. Looking straight into his partner's eyes, he said, "I knew you cared, Peter."

"Don't go getting ideas, Neal," Peter retorted, grinning widely all the same.

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Much later that evening, Neal checked his email one last time while changing into his pajamas. There was a new message from Peter.

_Thank you for the painting, Neal. You never cease to amaze me. Merry Christmas._

Attached to the email was a digital copy of the family portrait they'd taken in the Burkes' home. Peter stood in front of the tree with one arm around Elizabeth's waist and the other across Neal's shoulders and Satchmo at his feet, all of them with joyful smiles upon their faces. In the background, in the place of honor on the mantle of the fireplace, rested Neal's gift to Peter and Elizabeth, a painting of a happy home filled with love and warmth.

And for Neal, there would be a new photograph to add to his cherished collection.

**Thank you for reading! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!**


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